Duke University Chapel Reflections Lent 2013 In Conjunction with the Commemoration of 50 years of Black Students at Duke

 Keeping the heart of the University listening to the heart of God 

Cover Image: The Duke Vigil was a silent demonstration at Duke University, April 5-11, 1968, following the assasination of Dr. Martin Luther King. Up to 1,400 students slept on the Chapel Quad, food services and housekeeping employees went on strike, and most students boycotted the dining halls in support of the employees. Courtesy of Duke University Archives

List

of

Contributors

Ash Wednesday, February 13 ~ Christy Lohr Sapp Thursday February 14 ~ William Barber Friday, February 15 ~ Jesse Huddleston Satruday, February 16 ~ Paula McClain Sunday, February 17 ~ Bruce Puckett Monday, February 18 ~ Carolyn Sangokoya Tuesday, February 19 ~ Frank Emory Wednesday, February 20 ~ Adrienne Koch Thursday, February 21 ~ Amy Laura Hall Friday, February 22 ~ Enuma Okoro Saturday, February 23 ~ Innocent Justice Sunday, February 24 ~ Meghan Feldmeyer Monday, February 25 ~ Willie Jennings Tuesday, February 26 ~ Taylor Glymph Wednesday, February 27 ~ Caroline Lattimore Thursday, February 28 ~ Michael Page Friday, March 1 ~ Zoila Airall Saturday, March 2 ~ Marcia Owen Sunday, March 3 ~ Kennetra Irby Monday, March 4 ~ Bruce Grady Tuesday, March 5 ~ Milton Blackmon Wednesday, March 6 ~ Harrison Hines Thursday, March 7 ~ Anna Jones Friday, March 8 ~ Sheldon Johnson Saturday, March 9 ~ Mary Ann Black Sunday, March 10 ~ Richard Hays Monday, March 11 ~ Brandon Hudson Tuesday, March 12 ~ J. Kameron Carter Wednesday, March 13 ~ Cristina Comer Thursday, March 14 ~ Alma Jones Friday, March 15 ~ Onye Akwari and Anne Micheaux Akwari Saturday, March 16 ~ Chris Rice Sunday, March 17 ~ Joy Moore Monday, March 18 ~ Brad Troxell Tuesday, March 19 ~ Sean Palmer Wednesday, March 20 ~ Richard Lischer Thursday, March 21 ~ Tim Tyson Friday, March 22 ~ Priscille Schettini Saturday, March 23 ~ Maurice Wallace Palm Sunday, Sunday, March 24 ~ William Willimon Monday, March 25 ~ Sean Novak Thuesday, March 26 ~ Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove Wednesday, March 27 ~ Alexandra Swain Maundy Thursday, March 28 ~ C. T. Woods Powell Good Friday, March 29 ~ William Turner Holy Saturday, March 30 ~ Abby Kocher Easter Sunday, March 31 ~ Luke Powery

A Word

from the

Dean

As Duke University commemorates 50 years of black students at Duke, it is a time, as the commemoration theme reads, to “celebrate the past” and “chart the future.” As a commemoration, it provides an opportunity for all of us to remember. Remembering is a wise practice and yet memory can be complicated due to amnesia or distorted and selective memory. While this commemoration most certainly is an occasion for celebration, we should also be aware that this commemoration provides an opportunity for lamentation as well. Some people may find celebration without an acknowledgment of the struggle and suffering involved in desegregation to be a diminishment of the full story of the Civil Rights movement and Duke’s own history. Thus, in remembering the past, we are reminded that racial identity and other forms of human differences remain a source of devaluation and marginalization in the present, despite the progress of recent decades. Because Duke University Chapel is a ministry of truth, justice, and reconciliation, this booklet of Lenten reflections is an attempt to foster these virtues at an important moment in Duke history. Lent is a season of penitence and reflection when Christians journey deeply into the heart of their lives and communities to recognize the depth of their estrangement from God and each other; it consists of the 40 days prior to Easter Sunday. The convergence of liturgical time with historical time seems to be an appropriate occasion in the midst of the University’s commemoration to pay deliberate attention to the testimonies and reflections of a variety of voices and to make space for repentance, confession, lament, and hope as we remember the past in an attempt to re-member the present and future. In particular, Lent, with its focus on the suffering Jesus, represents a distinct time to explore the integration of the historical cultural suffering of black peoples with the theological suffering of Jesus. Lent is about bloodstained love and the tear-filled, blues-inflicted reality of loss and death. As the hymn, “Lift Every Voice and Sing” pronounces, “we have come over a way that with tears has been watered, we have come treading a path through the blood of the slaughtered.” These words are true for the existential realities of black peoples and Jesus historically. For the enslaved, the suffering Jesus represented their own suffering, thus the unknown black bards could freely sing the spiritual, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?” The two realities are wedded together historically and this booklet attempts to do the same during this significant moment in Duke’s history. To remember, one must tell the truth about pain and agony through lament or as contemporary theologian James Cone stresses, tell the truth about the connection between “the cross and the lynching tree.” As we remember, we

remember the entire past with all of its sorrow, suffering, and struggle, while also naming the ongoing struggles of marginalized people everywhere. This Lenten project is a cultural and theological work of memory watered with tears and drenched in sorrow. Yet, as we remember, we also recall and sing the stories of justice won, joy expressed, and hope voiced in the midst of struggle. As the spiritual expresses, “Nobody knows de trouble I see…glory, hallelujah!” Trouble was on every hand during the early stages of integration and the fight for civil rights, yet there was a glimmer of hope shining in the darkness. That hope was realized whenever justice rolled down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. The 50th commemoration of the first black students matriculating at Duke, therefore, is also a celebration of the victories won and the many more to be won in the future. Crucifixions are not the entire story because the plot line also includes testimonies of “how we got ovuh.” A truthful memory will tell of a race of sorrowful joy on the way paved by the feet of Jesus. This fused Lenten experience of black historical memory with theological memory is a memory of faith, hope, and love. It is a memory for all people because black history is human history. Remembrance may lead some to repentance. Others may rejoice. Readers will discover a wide range of human expression in the following pages as this Lenten literary offering attempts to maintain the creative tension within the breadth of honest human expression before God. As diverse voices remember, may we be led to reflect, repent, and rejoice, trusting all the while that “trouble don’t last always.” May God “guide [our] feet while [we] run this race” of Lent. Let the journey begin. Luke A. Powery Dean of Duke Chapel

Ash Wednesday, February 13 Jonah 3:1-4:11, Hebrews 12:1-14, Luke 18:9-14 The sermon to the Hebrews can be read as a sort of rallying cry to a people who are flagging in faith, and as Lent is a season that can try our faith, it speaks to us today, as well. As we enter into this somber season, as sorrow and inequalities prevail in the world around us, we are challenged to spend the next forty days reflecting on those things that test our faith. This is a time of repentance and lament, but this passage also encourages us in the midst of lamentation. When the trials of life seem too much to bear, we look to those who have tasted success before us. When the disciplines of Lent seem too much, we should remember that such discipline yields the fruit of righteousness. The weeks ahead provide ample opportunity to reflect on the hardships of life: the failures, the fractures, the disappointments and shortcomings. We come to recognize that just as we often feel overlooked, disrespected, alienated or alone, we also cause others to feel the same. As we lament the inequalities we suffer, we also grieve over the inequalities in which we participate. When those close to us disappoint and when our own wills run dry, we look to those who have endured before us to provide hope and assurance, and ultimately we look to Christ as the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. In him we see perseverance and patience embodied fully, and we call on him for assistance when we grow weary or lose heart. This 50th Anniversary is also a time for the Duke community to lift up the “cloud of witnesses” that has gone before it. Like those champions of the faith in the sermon to the Hebrews, Duke’s cloud of witnesses has endured hostility and trials. Yet, these individuals stand as examples of the rewards of perseverance and the joys of patience. God promises that our struggles will not be in vain. We are assured that what is lame will be healed. May God grant us the grace, peace and patience both to be healed and to be a healer, to pursue peace and to make a way for peace in our world. So that by our own examples, we, too may be included in that cloud of witnesses who testify to the power, reconciliation and glory of the living Lord. —Dr. Christy Lohr Sapp Associate Dean for Religious Life, Duke Chapel

Thursday, February 14 Deuteronomy 7:6-11, Titus 1:1-16, John 1:29-34 In the testimony circle of my faith tradition . . . born and bred down in Eastern North Carolina. . .we would often hear the “saints” on Wednesday night Bible Study lift up a song with this refrain: “I want to be more and more and more like Jesus.”

Especially in the season of Lent leading up to Easter they would sing this song with deep fervor, as Howard Thurman would say, almost as if their hunger to be changed was so deep they wanted to be transformed to survive in this hard world. Almost as though they wanted to be a different people in this difficult world. In John’s Gospel the writer introduces Jesus with the word picture—“Behold the lamb that takes away the sin of the world.” This is John’s first description of Jesus. And it sets up the first dilemma for those of us who seek to know him. For this description says his disciples must experience a virtue not born of this world. We are required to be born again in this world, because we obviously don’t live in a lamb’s world. We live in a world filled with sin. We live in a world where sin and injustice roar across our community like a lion. We live in a time when sin takes no prisoners. We see every day the effects of sin and hurt and wrong and domination that destroy our communities and families. Sin that snatches away our health care. That arrogantly throws away our jobs. That rejects federal grants for medical aid to the poor, and safety nets for families who have lost their bread-winner. We live in a time when a whole new meaning has been given to the “least of these” by people who say pay the least benefits to these people.’ . We live in a time when sin is so commonplace that even an economist can understand the moral dimension when we say we live in a world that commits “attention violence” against the poor. Not only is help withheld from poor children and their families, but their very existence . . .their very humanity . . . is ignored, and not a word is spoken of their plight in our major public or private discourse. And often . . .my sisters and brothers . . . not even in our pulpits and pews. And yet the one we are called to follow comes as a lamb into a lion’s world to extract the power of sin and open a way for transformation and change and redemption. Some would say ‘This is ridiculous! Lambs can’t defeat the power of lions in a lions’ world. Lambs can’t hold their own in a world that kills those whom are seen as weak. This no place for a lamb’s love. What can sacrificial lambs do against the self serving powers of this world who believe in only self preservation? They will only be eaten alive. I testify today, my sisters and brothers, that lambs can do exactly what Jesus did. They put their very lives on the line. They walk in the very power of agape love and truth and nonviolence. And though sometimes they are killed and seemingly they are defeated by forces and odds too great to overcome, they miraculously are used by God as vessels for his Holy Spirit, to prove that, as Dr. King said, unearned suffering is redemptive. Does it work? I can only testify to what I saw in two lambs that followed the Lamb of God. My parents were a part of the Lamb’s

following. My father was a preacher. And my mother who has been a church musician for 60 years and going strong, both desired to be more and more and more like Jesus. They had education and abilities. They could have escaped the segregated world of the south. But they had this encounter with the Lamb called Jesus. In the late 1960’s they moved by faith. They packed up with me, their baby son, their only son, to move back to the south, to put their lives and careers on the line, to sacrifice their lives to the work of integrating the Jim Crow south. And they offered me as a part of the sacrifice. Without even asking my permission! If they HAD remained in my mother’s home state of Indiana, I would have learned at an early age the many colors of God’s human family, before racialized systems of slavery and segregation were invented by plantation masters. My mother and father, without hesitation, answered the call to join the sheepfold of lambs who believe in the promises of God and the decision of the Supreme Court in 1954. Our state was bound up by the sin of entrenched institutional defiant racism and 12 years after the NAACP won the Brown decision and the national guard marched in city after city, and still the schools in North Carolina were not integrated. Lambs were needed. To save the soul. People were needed . . .black and white people, who would help take away the sin of racially justified segregation . . .who would sacrifice their careers, their comfort, yes, and their safety, to redeem the soul of the nation. Lambs were needed who were not afraid of the lions’ roar of hatred and meanness. Lambs were needed who believed that even lions can be forgiven and changed. Lambs were needed who believed that love and truth and sacrifice are mighty spiritual virtues, stronger than the hate and evil that ravage some men’s souls. So I ask again. Does it work? Yes it works. Segregation was brought down! Not just in the rural counties of Eastern North Carolina. But at Duke and all the segregated institutions across the south. The song and hope of lambs that we still sing . . .WE shall overcome . . . became the music of faith and liberation from my little town of Plymouth to Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China, to Johannesburg, South Africa. My mother, now nearly 80, still works at the school that once barred her. She is a living legacy. In a community where many once reviled her, she has now been resurrected by her sacrifice as a heroine, a model of faith and love. My father whose physical body took a toll form the stress and sacrifice of service is now resting and his life is still lifted up by many as a legend of service and love as he sits at the supper of the lamb in glory cheering us on to keep the faith with the other saints.

It’s amazing Jesus comes as a lamb to take away the sins of the world. He bids us to follow him. Not to be devoured by the lions. But to get organized in the world’s largest army of non-violent warriors, disciples of Christ, that have come to see the transformative power of God when we yield ourselves to be more and more and more like Him. Lambs are still needed today. Sin slouches among us, roaring and ravaging. Injustice and wrong lurks in our midst, preying on the weak and the least of these, looking to see who it can devour. Gracious God. Remind us by your Spirit that Lambs are still needed. Lambs who believe by faith in the Lamb of God there is a better way. Lambs who know that with faith we can take on sin ... we can take on the powers. Lambs who know we can see the powers transformed and redeemed by becoming God’s sacrificial lambs, who by his spirit everyday become more and more and more like Jesus. Amen. —The Rev. Dr. William Barber II Divinity ’89 President of the North Carolina Chapter of the NAACP

Friday, February 15 Deuteronomy 7:12-16, Titus 2:1-16, John 1:35-42 We know that God is blessed by our love, obedience, and faithfulness to Him. When we love and obey Him, He is eager to bless us, touching every area of our lives in ways that we cannot fully comprehend. In Him, there is nothing missing, nothing broken. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God has invited us to be with Him, to follow Him, and to see who He is. And we know that when we seek after Him, He will demonstrate His love and blessings for us even more, and we will be changed by His love. Lord, on this day, we seek to respond to that great invitation and to do good for the sake of Your gospel. May we be eager to demonstrate Your love and blessings, and may we live today in such away that brings goodness to others and glory to You, our Great God and Savior, Jesus Christ.

—Mr. Jesse Huddleston Trinity ’10, PathWays Chapel Alumnus

Saturday, February 16 Deuteronomy 7:17-26, Titus 3:1-15, John 1:43-51 The passage from the Gospel of John (1:43-51) describes Jesus’ recruitment of Philip and Nathanael as disciples. Philip tells Nathanael that he had found the person that Moses and the prophets wrote would come, “Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” Nathanael’s response

is dismissive and condescending—“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Clearly, Nathanael’s view is biased and exhibits a prejudice against the people of Nazareth. The statement also suggests that he considered himself to be superior intellectually and socially to them, such that there was absolutely nothing they could tell him or that he would be willing to consider. After Nathanael meets Jesus, however, the barriers disappear. As I was reading this passage, I was reminded that Duke University was the last of the southern private institutions to integrate its student body. Moreover, when it did, it did so slowly, primarily out of a concern for the loss of federal research funding if it maintained its segregationist stance. Maybe the reasons for the reluctance and delay might be a paraphrase of Nathanael’s statement—“Can anything good come out of integration?” The prejudice and discrimination against blacks not only was pervasive in the larger US society, but was present at Duke as well. Some might say that the attitudes at Duke reflected those of the broader society, so should so be understood within that context. But, I do not accept that excuse as there were others during that time who did not subscribe to those views or hold those attitudes and worked tirelessly for civil rights for black Americans. Lots of “good” came to Duke from integration. Opening up the doors to black students and faculty, and later to women of all races and other excluded groups has been a primary contributor that moved Duke from a good regional university to a major nationally ranked research university. Duke is an intellectually richer and more vibrant institution as a result of integration. Yet, for some within our community, there is still the revised question—“Can anything good come from diversity?” Diversity and excellence are two sides of the same coin, and we need to continue to work to move beyond Nathanael’s prejudice against the people of Nazareth.

—Dr. Paula McClain

Professor of Political Science and Public Policy Dean of the Graduate School and Vice Provost for Graduate Education Co-Director, Center for the Study of Race, Ethnicity, and Gender in the Social Sciences

Sunday, February 17 Deuteronomy 8:1-10, 1 Corinthians 1:17-31, Mark 2:18-22 Your old road is rapidly agin’ Please get out of the new one If you can’t lend your hand For the times they are a-changin’. These words Bob Dylan famous to his hit song “The Times They Are a Changin’” could very well be the words of Jesus to the Pharisees in

Mark 2:18-22. It was early in Jesus’ ministry and he was already eating with the wrong people at the wrong times and in the wrong places for the old guard religious observers. Jesus was not breaking sacred rules because of a rebellious streak or a desire for greater individual freedom. Rather, Jesus recognized that in his life and ministry God was doing something entirely new. Jesus prophetically proclaimed that the times were a-changin’. And this change, this new wine, meant a need for new wineskins—i.e. new frameworks, new paradigms, new imaginations, new practices. Jesus conveyed clearly that simply mixing the new and the old would end with disastrous messes and bigger holes in the fabric of life. The problem with God’s new wine is it is a stumbling block for some and foolishness for others, which leaves us all questioning God’s wisdom in doing such a new thing. Of course, if God’s new thing was limited to a time some 2,000 years ago, then maybe we would have all started preferring God’s new wine by now. Unfortunately, we have so often mixed the new wine ways of Jesus with the old wine ways of the world that when we’re called to live in purely new wine ways, we feel the fabric of our lives being ripped at the seams. Surely the divisions among races and economic classes and social spaces within the church and the world reveal that we have not fully embraced the new wine ways of Jesus. That churches are less racially and economically diverse than public schools is a sure sign we in the church have wanted to hang on to the old wine skins even if we’re being filled with new wine. Lent is a time for us to lament the messes we’ve made and repent of trying to hang on to the old when God was at work doing something new. May this Lenten season prepare you for the dramatically new life that comes in the new wine of Easter. —The Rev. Bruce Puckett Divinity ’09, Director of Community Ministry, Duke Chapel

Monday, February 18 Deuteronomy 8:11-18, Hebrews 2:11-18, John 2:1-12 There will be wine. When the wedding reception has run out of wine, ‘the mother of Jesus says to Him, “They have no wine.”’ Jesus responds that this is not his concern, and although we are not privy to the rest of the conversation, we see that Mary asks the servants to do exactly as Jesus instructs, confident that there will be wine. In Deuteronomy, Moses implores his people (having fled Egypt and still unsure of what the future would hold) to not forget what God has done for them at such time in the future when all is well and they live with great wealth.

In both of these texts, ordinary vessels are gathered together in the face of what seems impossible and yet they are destined for the high table. Mary and Moses both have faith that by the hand of God these ordinary vessels can yield great wealth. Would that we have the strength to love our neighbors, and just as Jesus sought out the outcast and the stranger, may we remember that these earthen vessels only mask the glory for which we have been created. Living God, Provider, Sustainer, we come to you again this day, just as we did in our thirst, just as we did in the wilderness. Merciful God, let us not forget your tender mercies and grant us the strength to love. Almighty God, even as we are filled and your will fulfilled, may we decrease as you increase and may all our work be praise! Amen.

—Dr. Carolyn Sangokoya Graduate School ’11, School of Medicine ’12

Tuesday, February 19 Deuteronomy 9:4-12, Hebrews 3:1-11, John 2:13-22 In my experience, people react to proposals for change in three stages: realization is impossible; then inevitable; then completely unremarkable. The admission of African-American undergraduates to Duke University in the early 1960’s seemed impossible. By the end of that decade, racial integration seemed inevitable. Now, 50 years after those first African-American undergraduates entered Duke, racial integration is unremarkable. This Lenten season is a good time to reflect on that lesson, and on the courage of those first AfricanAmerican students who came to Duke as pioneers. My own life is richer for their service and I am grateful for it. While there were members of the 1963 Duke community who opposed integration and made no secret of their views, now is a good time to recognize and thank those persons who also broke with tradition and treated those pioneers as human beings and friends. No “new” thing occurs without tremendous courage and a large measure of grace on the part of all involved. Our university is a place where we, more often than not, get both the process and the result exactly right. It is that characteristic, as much as any other, that has allowed us to achieve the outrageous ambitions of its leaders in the boardroom, administration, on the faculty and in the general student body. I am by no means naïve and fully recognize that the road from 1963 to here includes many twists and rough places, and gives reasons for grievance and pain. But, what a gift to enjoy the result of those

struggles. Today’s students may scratch their heads a bit at the notion that their manifold experience was not always so. That may be the pioneers’ best gift of all. In honor of that gift and of this 50th anniversary, we should focus on the contemporary issues of inclusion. Ensuring that the advantages of a Duke education are available to all who are intellectually and morally qualified, regardless of wealth and social status, seems impossible. But, with the copious quantities of grace, courage, and intellect at our disposal, we members of the Duke family will find the way to get this right too. Amen. —Mr. Frank E. Emory, Jr. Trinity ’79, Member of the Duke Board of Trustees

Wednesday, February 20 Deuteronomy 9:13-21, Hebrews 3:12-19, John 2:23-3:15 You and I had little to do with being born. Nicodemus knows this. We can sense his astonishment at Jesus’ words. He thinks Jesus is telling him how to direct his own spiritual life. “You must be born,” Jesus says to him —“be” being the key word. After all, who can control their birth? No one. Jesus knows this. But what Jesus knows and what Nicodemus knows are quite different. Nicodemus knows how to take control. He probably had a say in his education, and in his appointment as a religious leader. He knows how to control the opportunities of this life. So when he comes to Jesus, he asks him questions that seek no real answers. Jesus, however, lived his entire life emptying himself of control. His words make space for an eternal opportunity. Jesus knows that Nicodemus cannot enter into his mother’s womb and make himself born. Nicodemus cannot come to Jesus at night and demand the answers he desires. Jesus knows that one must be born. Like the answers to our deepest questions about our lives, our birth is not something we can control. It is only possibility made reality by the desire of another. This conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus is leading us into John 3:16 where we learn that the same Father who gave us his Son because of love is the Father who, through Jesus, desires that we all be born in his likeness. Are you willing to be born? Do not let your well-educated mind fool you as it did Nicodemus. To be born of God you must release your sense of control. You cannot determine where or when or even if you will be born. All you can know is what Jesus tells you – that it must happen. You must be born again, and perhaps even again after that.

Perhaps we must be born over and over again because we are as stubborn as Nicodemus. We have to learn again and again just how little control we really have over the things that so easily divide us. Just as we could not determine the confines of our first birth – the color of our eyes, the shade of our skin – we cannot control our second birth. We cannot determine the confines within which God will make us into a new creation. So stop trying to control your brother and your sister. Stop even trying to control your own life, and let yourself be born. —Ms. Adrienne Koch Divinity ’11, Communications Specialist, Duke Chapel

Thursday, February 21 Deuteronomy 9:23-10:5, Hebrews 4:1-10, John 3:16-21

 

Employees, students, and faculty protest in solidarity for the dignity of work at Duke in front of the Duke Administration Building on April 19, 1967. Courtesy of Durham Civil Rights Heritage Project, Duke University Labor Organizing, 1961-1968, Durham County Library. Photograph by Bill Boyarsky.

John 3:16 is tried and true. Apart from the 23rd Psalm, I would wager it is the best-known scrap of biblical knowledge in America. Its tried and true-ness may also tinge it as tired-out – as a too-readily recited word for a justice-starved world. But I cannot keep thirsting for justice without this truth about the Word who is Jesus Christ. Lent is a time for digging and sleuthing, for doing the archival work of the soul. This includes one’s own individual soul, and also the soul of a community, of a neighborhood, of a city, of a school. Lent is a time for uncovering

the detailed mess of our history, and I recommend this discipline of memory right alongside the strange assurance that God means salvation for us. I do not know how else to suggest that someone fully reckon with the history of race at Duke without also signaling, like a simple sign on a back-country road: “For God so loved the world . . .” With this faith, I see this photograph as a call for repentance and encouragement. John 3:17-21 is a call to walk into the light, knowing that the bare, soul-searching work of memory is a practice of salvation, not condemnation. There is a profligate grace given through Jesus Christ, grace to uncover our sins. Lord, not all our deeds have been done in God. Some of our back stories are too painful or too wicked or too cowardly to recall. I would rather shut my eyes. Lord, can’t we just move forward? Help me to know you mean to save me. Help me to feel your forgiveness, so that I can confess. —The Rev. Dr. Amy Laura Hall Associate Professor of Christian Ethics Duke Divinity School

Friday, February 22 Deuteronomy 10:12-22, Hebrews 4:11-16, John 3:22-36 It is challenging to know where to begin diving into the bounty that is Deuteronomy 10:12-22. During this Lenten season in which we are called to deepened self-reflection, confession and repentance, it is not a call to navel-gazing ponderings. There are specific movements required of us when we seek to confess and repent of our wrongdoings, of the injustices we have shown or permitted, of the silences we have kept, and of the partiality we have shown. Confession is not just about coming clean. At the heart of confession is a question of memory and true identity: God’s identity, our identity, and the identity of others. Deuteronomy 10:12-22 invites us to faithfulness through faithful remembering of who we are and whose we are. If we remember that God is “God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes.” Then our own identities must necessarily come into check. Like the Israelites, to whom this passage addresses, we too “were aliens,” not in Egypt, worse, to God. But God in divine mercy and through Christ Jesus, chose us to join in the covenant offered to God’s chosen Israelites. At it’s core our identity is one of being grafted to God in grace and mercy. So now, we are reminded who God is and we are reminded who we are. Now what? The act of confession, whatever we are confessing is a move towards saying, “I am sorry that I forgot who you were God, and who I am in you.” Because of this lapse of memory we act in ways unfitting to God’s children. We behave as though we create in partiality instead of as those created without partiality.

“I am sorry that I forgot who you were God, and who I am in you.” Because of this lapse of memory we treat others as aliens based on race, socio-economic status, sexual orientation, and gender instead of showing the love God showed us when we were aliens. “I am sorry that I forgot who you were God, and who I am in you.” God calls the Israelites and eventually us, to circumcise our hearts, to mark our life source as God’s alone. If our hearts are marked as God’s then how do our actions match the heart of God? This Lent, as we practice the call to confession and repentance let us find courage to reflect on where in our lives we have forgotten who God is and who we are. And when we remember these true identities let us find courage to do what is required of us, to love as we have been loved.

—Ms. Enuma Okoro Divinity ’03

Saturday, February 23 Deuteronomy 11:18-28, Hebrews 5:1-10, John 4:1-26 Every time I reflect on the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, I rejoice in my heart. My joy is particularly about the love of Christ that crosses all boundaries of discrimination and hatred. In every society, some people tend to value what differ them rather than uniting to what they have in common. In a case of the Jews and Samaritans, it was a taboo and unconceivable for Jews to share food or a drink with Samaritans. This particular outcast, marginalized woman who had five failed relationships was the lowest of the lowly people in her society. When Jesus asks for a drink, the Samaritan woman reminds Jesus the reality of their society, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” The Samaritan woman does not quite understand the living water Jesus is talking about. Actually, anyone who genuinely accepts Christ’s living water experience transformation in his or her life. They can’t keep their testimony on them, but they invite others to come to the well. Those who received the living water, worship the Lord in Spirit and truth. Accepting the living water means losing any confidence in flesh like the Apostle Paul! People who experienced the living water understand that if anyone is in Jesus Christ is a new creature. Living by the well of the living water gives us a vision to see and know that we are one race redeemed by the risen Lord. We have experienced the similar hostility in our own time. The United States has an uncomfortable history of slavery and racial discrimination. This reality prevented many people from minority groups to attain their God’s given potentials through the means of education. Due to the Civil

Rights movement, brother and sisters from all races who worked tirelessly to end segregation we will celebrate the 50th anniversary of the first African American student to matriculate at Duke University. My prayer during this Lenten season is that as we celebrate and reflect on the past fifty years, we may strive to eradicate racism and hatred among Christian communities in fifty years to come. Jesus crossed hatred boundaries when he went to Samaria. We are called to cross-racial hatred lines by seeing each other as brother and sister in Christ. —Mr. Innocent N. Justice Divinity ’13

Sunday, February 24 Jeremiah 1:1-10, 1 Corinthians 3:11-23, Mark 3:31-4:9 The author Norman McLean put it this way, ”you will soon find it true, factually and theologically, that man, by nature, is a damn mess.” Lent is the season the church sets apart and claims as a time to deliberately reflect on this damned mess…the ways we’ve created and participated in the estrangement from God’s holy and loving vision for us and the world. Our systems and institutions seem irretrievably corrupt and broken…the finest folks often will fall into the deepest traps…good intentions so often go awry…we hurt each other without meaning to…we hurt each other with great intentionally…we may pray every week to not be led into temptation, even though we secretly lead ourselves to it…we try, we fail…we are frail in our efforts…we may feel enslaved by situations and powers beyond our control. It is a world much like our own that God called to Jeremiah, “before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations…to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant.” There is much in our lives that requires being plucked up and pulled down. There is much that should be destroyed and overthrown. This was true 50 years ago when the first black students made their way to Duke’s campus. But it is no less true today. Lent invites us to look around our lives, at both individual and institutional levels, to see what prejudices and privileges need to be weeded and plucked up, destroyed and overthrown. The good news of the gospel and of this passage in Jeremiah is that the promise doesn’t end in destruction. The promise of God is that all our reflection and repentance is for God to build and to plant a new thing. Our repentance is the first step to making new space for the promises of God to take root. Duke has experienced unparalleled blessing as a result of opening its doors to blacks. What other blessings might God have in store if we open ourselves to God’s holy pruning and God’s abundant planting?

Holy God, pluck up and pull down all those things that separate me from you. Destroy and overthrow all those persistent parts of myself and my community that I no longer even have the courage to recognize as sin. Make our hearts be always open to the new life you seek to plant and build. Amen.

—The Rev. Meghan Feldmeyer Divinity ’02, Director of Worship, Duke Chapel

Monday, February 25 Jeremiah 1:11-19, Romans 1:1-15, John 4:27-42 God often calls us to enter the unfamiliar. Even if those places are known to us and even if they anticipate our presence, we may yet be entering at a time, in a way, and with a message that will makes that place strange to us and us to that place. The prophet Jeremiah was sent into the unfamiliar. He was sent to his people, his land, and his home in a time of their disobedience, and in a place of their rebellion against God. And in such a place and such a time that young man Jeremiah was sent with a message and a purpose that made him strange. I can only imagine what it must have been like for the first black students to come to Duke University. They came to a place made for students, but not students like them. They came to a place of education, but not a place ready to be educated about the new world pressing in upon it. Those first black students embodied a message as real and powerful as the one given to Jeremiah: “…I am watching over my word to perform it. (1:12)” Fifty years ago Duke University received in the bodies of those young black students a new word. That word was beautifully and simply, “we bring hope.” This was a hope born of slaves, tried in the crucibles of suffering and frustration, and capable of changing the racial order of the world. Yet we must remember that hope embodied is sometimes unwelcomed, oftentimes resisted, and always strange. Real hope that is born of God, if it is to be received by us, always demands we change, always involves our repentance, and always requires that we love those who are different from us. We know that nothing is unfamiliar to God, especially since the Son of God walked deeply into the strange. He lived in the space of rejection, alienation, and even violence. Yet it is precisely in that space that he offered us his body in hope. This is the God we serve, one who never tires of offering us grace, and forgiveness, and love but always in and through the unfamiliar and the strange. Our greatest work and most urgent task as followers of Jesus is to receive that strangeness gladly and be changed by it into something new. —The Rev. Dr. Willie Jennings Associate Professor of Theology and Black Church Studies Duke Divinity School

Tuesday, February 26 Jeremiah 2:1-13, Romans 1:16-25, John 4:43-54 In this day and age, people and more specifically college students, are searching and yearning for truth. People are broken and are seeking to find something to fill the void in their hearts. During my college experience I witnessed first hand how the power of God’s love can change someone’s life. During my undergraduate experience I realized that the experiences, opportunities, and even the trials that I went through were not only for my spiritual growth, but also for the benefit of others. God plans to use the lives of His children to show Himself strong. However, in order for God to use me I had to learn how to be a willing vessel even when my actions weren’t popular. As I grew in my relationship with the Lord, seven words spoke to my core and governed my actions on campus…“I am not ashamed of the gospel” (Rom 1:16). When I made up in my mind that I would not hide my love for Christ, Jesus used me to demonstrate His love for the people around me. My faith in God and His power is what keeps me going. Being unashamed of the Gospel does not mean being a super extremist, but understanding that through the Gospel, righteousness is revealed. And understanding that in order to live righteously, I have to live by faith (Rom 1:17). My prayer is that we do not live like the official in the passage of John 4:43-54, who only believed in Jesus after He had performed a miracle. We have a special gift given to us through the Gospel that gives us power and strength in our inner most being. Dear Heavenly Father, we thank You for being Jehovah Shammah, the Lord who is present with us. We thank You for this life that You have given us. Please reveal to us what it is that You have purposed for us to do in Your Kingdom and give us a spirit of boldness to pursue Your will. God as we pray, build our faith that we may proclaim Your name boldly and believe! Show Yourself strong in our lives and lavish Your love on Your people. We pray that Your power will fall when Your name is called and that You will prove all doubters wrong showing that You are mighty and strong. Meet us where we need to be met oh God. In Jesus Name, Amen.

—Ms. Taylor Glymph Trinity ’12, PathWays Chapel Alumna

Wednesday, February 27 Jeremiah 3:6-18, Romans 1:28-2:11, John 5:1-18 Reflections of Lent have been a revelation for me. I now realize how important this event has been in my life. Raised in the Missionary Baptist Church, I recall special efforts made by Sunday school teachers and ministers as well as family members in preparation for Easter.

Beautiful flowers, decorated baskets, and new clothes were part of the preparations. Pictures of Jesus entering Jerusalem with throngs of people waving palms were on the church bulletin boards in celebration of Holy Week. Jesus at Golgotha and his resurrection were presented via scripture readings, narratives, and lessons. Spiritual growth has given me new perspectives. Lent has become more than events remembered. It is a purposeful time of year, a period of reflection and activities by Christians world-wide. Lent reminds us to pause from our hectic lives to concentrate on The Resurrection and its meaning. 1) Self-denial and 2) service to others are activities which have been physical manifestations of my observance of Lent. Self denial meant giving up something that was personally meaningful. This period of self denial although challenging, enhanced my awareness that Jesus Christ died so God could be my personal savior. I believe God has been guiding me as I served students, senior citizens, and people in need. On this day during Lent, service to others should be considered. We can show our love for God by helping His people. While doing so, remember that all of His people are precious in His sight. Surely, we can be diligent during Lent as we strengthen our faith in God.

—Dr. Caroline Lattimore Retired Associate Dean Trinity College Arts and Sciences

Thurssday, February 28 Jeremiah 4:9-10, 19-28; Romans 2:12-24, John 5:19-29 Creating a Culture of Unity Jesus had a unique relationship with God. While the Pharisees called God their Father, Jesus was connected with God and was obedient to him to live as he wanted him to live. He was submissive to his will and honored the authority and power that was within Him. We gain our strength and knowledge through the everlasting power that exist in our loving God. During this Lenten season, let us unite our hearts and hands to form a world that is free of violence, hatred, prejudice and all acts of unkindness. We can be unique by stepping out of our doors and searching for that someone who shares your belief that we can be a unified community. As we reflect over the last year, what have we done to initiate a culture expressing our desire for unity. What have you done to incorporate change? To experience “Eternal Life” you must be a part of the solution and not a part of the problem. Where do you stand today? God who is the Source and Creator of Eternal Life The giver of man and giver of every good and perfect Gift We recognize that the life in us comes from you We thank you for giving us this opportunity to serve mankind

Let us do it with patience, endurance and steadfastness Let us not slumber for the world is in need of our hand Let us not grow weary in well doing for we shall be renewed along the way Let us pick up the cross and follow you with a heart of thanksgiving.

—The Rev. Michael Page Durham County Commissioner Pastor, Antioch Baptist Church, Durham

Friday, March 1 Jeremiah 5:1-9, Romans 2:25-3:18, John 5:30-47 The faithful Prophet, Jeremiah, searched the streets of Jerusalem in vain for someone, anyone who was living an upright life. He found that both rich and poor had become hardened to God’s laws and had turned to idolatry. Jeremiah warned the people of Jerusalem that God’s wrath would be visited upon them if they did not heed His teachings. This passage reminded me of the words from an old familiar hymn: If my people which are called by my name, shall humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven, I will forgive their sin, I will heal their land. Reflections for God’s children: How much do I, like the people of Jerusalem, turn away from God’s teachings? Do I understand that I will be chastised for not obeying God’s word? What are ways that I can be a prophet of God’s teachings to my brothers and sisters? God of power and grace your teachings guide my footsteps, thoughts, words and deeds. I come to you in humble submission, asking you to give me the wisdom to know right from wrong, the strength of moral integrity, and the state of perfect peace. For those times that I falter in my disobedience to you, I beseech a softening of my spirit, forgiveness from you and healing for my soul. Almighty God, giver of true life, I submit myself in complete surrender to thy holy word. Let me never forget Your grace and my personal responsibility to humbly abide in thy presence with gratitude. Amen —Dr. Zoila Airall Assistant Vice President of Student Affairs for Campus Life

Saturday, March 2 Jeremiah 5:20-31, Romans 3:19-31, John 7:1-13 Fifty years ago Southern white people of Duke admitted six black students. It was a just act and a mighty confession. It was a confession of white privilege created by black indignity and of white wealth created by black poverty. It was the university listening to the heart of God.

In 1963 I was a white, seven year-old girl living in Duke Forest with my parents and brother. Eight years after the Supreme Court declared segregated schools unconstitutional my school was all white, except for the janitor. Duke families from all over the world lived in my neighborhood but no American black family was among us. My family was United Methodist and our exclusively white congregation confessed sin collectively, out loud, every Sunday, with greater guidance during Lent. “I have not loved my neighbor.” “I have not heard, seen, or responded to the suffering of others.” We confessed these generalities knowledgeable of sit-ins, boycotts, and endless evidence of racial discrimination. The adults studied Jeremiah, Romans, and John’s Gospel and still we did not profess to God the sins of our segregation or renounce the profits we gained from our privilege. It was clear to me then that white people feared their crimes against black people more than they feared God. In this season of Lent the people of Duke have another confession to make and a just action to take. Let us confess that we have not seen, heard or responded to the indignity of punishing blacks for crimes equally committed by whites. The mass incarceration of our black brothers and sisters, primarily for drug offenses, has replaced the enforcement of Jim Crow laws. The “War on Drugs” is being waged in black and poor neighborhoods with the indifference of their white neighbors. In 2013, let us lament that 82% of Durham prisoners are black and, once released, will be prohibited from working at Duke. I pray that the people of Duke will once again act justly and transform our prejudice into promise. Like the first six black students admitted to Duke, I pray we will address the needs racism creates in our community and open the doors of employment to six formerly incarcerated individuals whose qualities, gifts, and character will uplift us all. I pray that we obey the Justice of God’s Love. —Ms. Marcia Owen Executive Director, Religious Coalition for a Nonviolent Durham

Sunday, March 3 Jeremiah 6:9-15, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, Mark 5:1-20 During the Lenten season we normally focus on the life, death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ, paying particular attention to His suffering and His sacrifice. I wonder whether we fully realize the extent to which we cause Jesus’ suffering today. I wonder whether we fully realize the extent to which our action or inaction perpetuates the suffering of our own brothers and sisters in Christ. Jeremiah 6:9-15 and Mark 5:1-20 illumine the danger of going through religious motions

without tapping into our divine source of peace (Shalom), thereby rejecting God’s offer of completeness and reconciliation. Jeremiah pleaded with the people of Israel to turn their hearts toward God. Instead they maintained their ritual religiosity, failing to honor and commune with the Lord. As we read the Hebrew Scripture today, his passionate prophecies warn us that we cannot change on our own, that only through confession and cooperation with God, can we share the shalom of the Most High with others. In the Gospel according to Mark, we see the people of Gerasenes in the very presence of the Prince of Peace, and yet they reject his promise of wholeness. In fact, they ask him to leave their community: They came to Jesus and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion; and they were afraid. Those who had seen what had happened to the demoniac and to the swine reported it. Then they began to beg Jesus to leave their neighborhood. Mark 5:15-17 Are we like the priests of Israel, offering hollow platitudes about peace uprooted from the covenantal and complete shalom of God? Or are we like the people of Gerasenes, seeking to chain and excommunicate the most troubled among us in order to “keep the peace,” maintaining the status quo of the community at the expense of fellow brothers and sisters burdened by a legion of stressors or dare we say, demons? The Son of the Most High God awaits, offering shalom and lovingkindness to all those willing to abandon the status quo by the power of the Holy Spirit. God of peace, reveal to us the ways in which we are complicit in the strife and struggle of racism, classism, sexism, and ageism. As we confess these sins, stir our hearts to accept your forgiveness and your offer of covenantal relationship. May we never dismiss you from our presence, O Lord. Show us how to share your peace with all of creation. In the name of the Jehovah Shalom we pray. Amen. —Ms. Kennetra Irby Divinity ’13, Interim Black Campus Minister, Duke Chapel

Monday, March 4 Jeremiah 7:1-15, Romans 4:1-12, John 7:14-36 It’s Time to Update Your Status! Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend your ways and your doings, and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.’ Jeremiah 7:3-4 (NRSV)

In the social media world of Facebook, status is a feature where participants may post their hobbies, educational background or special interests. To ‘update your status’ means to share more current and accurate information about your values, priorities and aspirations so others may become better acquainted with you. Inevitably, Facebook users give so much attention to the messages that they receive that they neglect critical reflection on the messages that they are sending. The same observation regarding the social media community has also been prophesied of Israel in the days of Jeremiah. The word which had been delivered to God’s chosen people could also be proclaimed in the contemporary Christian communities of the west. The Israelites thought that their affiliation with the temple in Jerusalem and its rituals of worship secured divine blessings of ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.’ But, they deceived themselves and suffered the consequences of Babylonian exile. The Lord warned them of their lies, their distorted views of money, power and sex (7:4). Similarly, there are people of faith today who subscribe to this ill-guided ideological pattern through their association with Christian groups who perpetuate exclusive access to power and privilege and who ignore God’s warning of impending judgment. Jeremiah preached that worship and behavior must align with the God of the covenant. If you claim a right relationship with God, but embrace deceptive policies of discrimination, then it’s time to update your status. If you claim a right relationship with God, but build walls of hostility against the immigrant, then it’s time to update your status. If you claim a right relationship with God, but promote xenophobic or ethnocentric doctrines, then it’s time to update your status. Repent and trust in the Holy One of Israel! Breathe on me breath of God, Fill me with life anew. That I may love what Thou dost love, And do what Thou wouldst do. Amen. —Rev. Dr. Bruce T. Grady Divinity ’94, Black Campus Minister Duke Chapel ’93-94 Dean and Associate Professor of Religious Education Shaw University Divinity School

Tuesday, March 5 Jeremiah 7:21-34, Romans 4:13-25, John 7:37-52 While Jesus was in Jerusalem during the feast, He attracted a crowd of people to listen to Him speak. There were different kinds of people in that crowd. Some were attracted to Him because of his earlier teachings and they wanted to hear more. Some were probably curious to see what

He would say this time. Some may have had mixed feelings about Jesus and may have been looking for more proof that He is who He said He is. Some in the crowd were officers sent by the priests and rulers to try to catch Jesus saying something that would give them an opportunity to arrest Him. The same is true today. People seek to learn about Jesus for various reasons. Some may seek Him because they believe He is Divine. Some may think of Him as they would think of any other human prophet. Still others may seek Him as the officers in the story did, to discredit Him. Those officers probably didn’t have a personal encounter with Jesus before. The priests and rulers misled them about Jesus. While Jesus was speaking, they lingered near, to catch something that might be turned against Him. They went to the temple court with hardened hearts, but the words of Jesus melted their hearts. As they listened, the purpose for which they had been sent was forgotten. Jesus revealed Himself to their souls. They saw that which priests and rulers would not see – humanity flooded with the glory of divinity. They returned to the priests so impressed with Jesus’ words, that when asked, “Why have you not brought Him?” they could only reply, “No man ever spoke like this man.” Our prayer should be forgive us Lord at times when we may not have been open to the leading of the Holy Sprit. Forgive us when we may have doubted who you really are. Forgive us when we may have allowed other people’s doubts about you cloud our own judgment. Let us be like the officers after having an encounter with Jesus we will be strengthened with an increase of faith that we can truly say, “No man ever spoke like this Man.” Amen. —Mr. Milton Blackmon Trinity College Associate Dean Faculty Advisor, Adventist Christian Fellowship

Wednesday, March 6 Jeremiah 8:18-9:6, Romans 5:1-11, John 8:12-20 The distance Christ traversed to requisition us from darkness’ chains left eternal repercussions upon the hearts of all men. As his death and resurrection broke humanity free from the vice-like grip of the flesh, there was forever a new standard of freedom set. No longer was hope out of reach; it was placed in the heart of every person. No longer were grace and justification for the few chosen ones; they had been given to all who would accept them. This was the power of Jesus that changed eternity and which moves us now. This Lenten season finds us in the midst of a celebration of that longing for freedom and equality. May that longing propel us ever forward. As we feel the groaning of hope, freedom, and grace in us now, let us also reflect on the immensity of God’s goodness: that while we were still weak, at the right time, Christ

died for the ungodly. Let this Lenten season be a time to consider our deep estrangement from God and wait for the resurrection of his son that would bring us back into his arms. Countenance bowed and heart laden with grief, you, O Lord, wept for your people. For the lost daughter who strayed from your generous fold; for the wayward son who drifted away from you, from falter to folly—for these you ached. Still, grieved as you were, you humbled yourself to walk with us lost daughters and sons, hand to hand, eye to eye, foot to foot. You broke your sinless body as our sins had broken ours, you spilt your guiltless blood as our guilt had tainted ours, and you saved us by the power of your light, that whoever cries out to you shall no longer walk in darkness, but have the light of eternal life. To the Lord be all praise and glory, forever. Amen. —Mr. Harrison Hines Trinity ’12, PathWays Chapel Alumnus

Thursday, March 7 Jeremiah 10:11-24, Romans 5:12-21, John 8:21-32 Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples: and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” John 8:31-32 True Disciples Do you know a true disciple of Jesus Christ? I do. Like other communities in the Jim Crow South in the 1960’s, tensions between blacks and whites in rural Northampton County, NC over school desegregation were palpable. Whites resisted change and refused to obey the law. Blacks, although in the majority, hopeful for a brighter future, but shut out of the education business, struggled to be heard. So, in 1963, while Duke University was admitting its first Black students, the forces in Northampton County were locking the battle lines. But, God was preparing my father, James Henry Jones, especially for that season. Buttressed by faith, fueled by love for God’s people, compassionate and generous to his neighbors, my father worked in churches, civic organizations, and PTAs, garnering a reputation for honesty, fairness, and level headedness that inspired followers. So, in spite of the insidiousness of Jim Crow practices, personal threats and hostility, the odds overwhelmingly against him, he stepped forward in 1968 and said, “I will be the voice.” The journey would be long and arduous. Still, two lost elections later, in 1971 he was appointed Northampton County’s first black school board representative. His Cross. He walked into the board room, faith-filled, unafraid, eyes on the prize. Unwelcome. Battling for a voiceless people, he met the forces of intolerance, insensitivity, and raw hatred with a resolve born of the rightness of his cause. He stood by himself, yet not alone, for he knew

Jesus walked with him. Meeting after meeting, my father withstood every indignity (and there were many) in his battle to free black children from the suffocating effects of Jim Crow education. Whether it was his quiet demeanor, humble spirit, value he placed on children, or empathy and fairness in his actions, he won the trust and respect of those fiercely resistant to change and those who thought change would never come. Thus, creating community dialog and consensus. Armed with patience, prayer, and passion, my father helped integration tip toe into Northampton County and transform the educational landscape for all of her children. His call came. He answered. and So must we. Have we the courage to be true disciples in our time - or is being a Christian enough?

—Ms. Anna Jones Advisory Board, Friends of Duke Chapel

Friday, March 8 Jeremiah 11:1-8, 14-20; Romans 6:1-11, John 8:33-47 “You’re dead to me” is a statement one says to announce that they disown someone, they never want to see them again, and that their relationship is over. In John 8:33-47 we find Jesus having a discussion about relationship. In v.36 Jesus declares, “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed.” Just like the Jewish believers of Christ in this pericope, we often misunderstand the nature of our relationship to sin and freedom. On Easter we celebrate the liberating grace of Christ, while the Lenten season that precedes it is an opportunity to reflect upon what Christ is liberating us from. In John 8:34-35 Jesus instructs the Jews who believed in Him that anyone who sins is in fact a slave to sin, and that slaves have no permanent place in a family unlike a daughter or a son. Christ does not simply free us from committing individual sins, but He frees us from a relationship with sin while welcoming us into covenant relationship with the Triune God. The Apostle Paul highlights this point in Romans 6:6-11: For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin—because anyone who has died has been freed from sin Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Our relationship with sin hinders our relationship with Jesus Christ. Therefore Christ frees us for joyful obedience so that we may be God’s people and the Lord may be our God. We must declare “you’re dead to me!” to sin while announcing that we are alive to God in Christ Jesus. Eternal God we thank you for welcoming us into relationship with you. We also thank you for allowing us to be in relationship with one another despite the color of our skin. As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of Black students enrolling at Duke, we celebrate the beauty of your diverse creation. We lament the pain that was caused by the sin of racism, and ask for your forgiveness for our sins of apathy, anger, and ignorance. Free us today Lord. In Jesus name we pray. Amen. —Mr. Sheldon Johnson Divinity ’14, President of the Black Seminarians Union

Saturday, March 9 Jeremiah 13:1-11, Romans 6:12-23, John 8:47-59 One Sunday morning I walked into my garage and saw perched on my sill a beautiful red bird. The sight of the bird on this cold winter morning made my heart soar. What a delight to stand and listen to the beautiful song of the bird. The combination of the weather, the bird’s song and its beauty made me reflect on the wonders of God. The ability to experience a small moment in time brought such pleasure and inner peace. How much greater then is the pleasure when we listen to and hear the voice of God? In John 8:47 it states, “He who belongs to God hears what God says.” God’s voice comes to us in many ways. We must be prepared to listen. God’s voice may come through the voices in the community. It may come as a cry from a hungry baby whose mother is a prisoner to drugs and whose father is not present. God’s voice may come through the person who has been to war and is consumed with the ghosts of the people he killed. God’s voice may appear to us through the poor, the un-educated, or the sick. Do we listen to the stories of the person who has no money to pay for medicine, food, or rent? Yes, we must listen to the voices of the people and react with compassion. It is the listening, compassion, prayer, and action that create change. Do you know when God is speaking to you? Be still and listen to God’s voice. Most gracious God we ask you for the following: For loving care of our community. For the ability to listen to the voices of the community: the poor, the sick, the children. For the ability to accept, value, and appreciate differences. For health, friendships, wealth, and wisdom to know when action is needed.

Most gracious God we thank you for the following: For loving care of our community. For the ability to listen to the voices of the community: the poor, the sick, the children, For the ability to accept, value and appreciate differences For health, friendships, wealth, and wisdom to know when action is needed. Amen. —Ms. MaryAnn Black Associate Vice President Duke Univeristy Health System Office of Community Relations

Sunday, March 10 Jeremiah 14:1-9, 17-22; Galatians 4:21-5:1, Mark 8:11-21 Children of Promise “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not be subjugated again to a yoke of slavery” (Gal 5:1). These ringing words call all God’s people to recognize that they are “children of promise,” destined to inherit all the good things that a loving God desires for them—including, above all, freedom. The Apostle Paul is telling his converts in Galatia that they need not submit to the demand of some Jewish-Christian missionary preachers that they should accept circumcision and come under the requirements of the Jewish Law. But the deeper issue at stake here is Paul’s vision for a new community in Christ, a community in which the division between Jew and Gentile is overcome and there is no longer any “slave or free,” for all are one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3:28). The entire letter to the Galatians is both a charter of Christian freedom and an appeal for Christian unity that transcends barriers of race, ethnicity, and social class. Thus, Paul’s message unfolds the deep logic of the gospel, a deep logic that ultimately compelled the abolition of slavery and fired the civil rights struggle in the United States. Yet the fact that such a struggle was necessary points to a sobering truth: God’s people can be disastrously unfaithful and live in contradiction to God’s reconciling purpose. The prophet Jeremiah diagnoses our plight: “Our iniquities testify against us…our apostasies indeed are many” (Jer 14:7). Even as we rightly celebrate the admission of African-American students to Duke fifty years ago, we should also recognize penitently that it is only fifty years ago that black students were welcomed here. This university and this nation carry the heavy burden of a legacy of racial discrimination. “We acknowledge our wickedness, O Lord, the iniquity of our ancestors, for we have sinned against you” (Jer 14:20). For Jeremiah, this truthful confession is the prerequisite to his prayer for God to remember his covenant love and restore the people. The same is

true for us. In the midst of our celebrations, let us remember sadly our past unjust divisions and pray for God’s continued healing. O God, you have made us one in Christ, but we have contradicted your gospel by building barriers among ourselves. Forgive us, heal our divisions, restore us as your children to recognize one another as children of promise, reconciled and united in you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. —The Rev. Dr. Richard Hays Dean and the George Washington Ivey Professor of NT Duke Divinity School

Monday, March 11 Jeremiah 16:10-21, Romans 7:1-12, John 6:1-15 “The lies Duke inherited from our southern white ancestors produced a culture of racial segregation and white supremacy at the university for almost forty years. Even when our peer institutions began to turn from the idol of whiteness by integrating their student bodies, Duke—like the Israelites who followed their own stubborn evil will (Jer 16:12)—held on just a little while longer. And although 2013 marks 50 years since the first undergraduate class of black students stepped onto campus, we should not give praise without lament, we should not celebrate without acknowledging the ways Duke still falls short of witnessing to God’s beloved community. For the question of inheritance is ever before us. Will we—as a community—receive the inheritance of God’s Spirit bringing justice, reconciliation, and life, or will we revert to believing the lies of our ancestors who brought oppression, division, and death? In 1976, more than a decade after integration, the Duke student body made two seemingly progressive decisions regarding race relations. Reginaldo Howard became the first black student—and the first sophomore—to be elected student government president and Michael Holyfield became the first black student chosen to serve as the Blue Devil mascot. Tragically, Howard died in a car accident before he could serve his term. The university immediately established a scholarship in his name and honor, which today covers the full cost of education for students of African descent. Holyfield’s legacy is less well known, marked by tragedies that reveal the way in which integration alone cannot eradicate the lingering sin of racism at Duke. At that time, the Blue Devil mascot wore a mask exposing the lower half of the person’s face. Thus, due to the color of his skin, Holyfield endured racial slurs and evaded projectiles thrown at him from opposing fans. The university expressed their support by excluding him from the annual athletic banquet and from out of town alumni functions attended by the rest of the cheerleading squad. He was even denied the perk of a Duke athletic jacket that traditionally came with the role.

Two African-American firsts. Two different legacies. Michael Holyfield’s experience forces us to wonder just what Reginaldo Howard’s tenure as student government president would have been like. It forces us to consider how current students of color experience the university and whether or not their presence in leadership roles throughout campus tells us the whole story. Ultimately, it forces us to consider how the lies we have inherited from our ancestors still pervade Duke’s campus climate. This Lenten season, let us ask God for the patience to listen to painful stories, the repentance to change our ways in light of those stories, and the grace to inherit justice and truth rather than lies and oppression. —Mr. Brandon Hudson Trinity ’06, PathWays Chapel Fellow ’08-09, Divinity ’13

Tuesday, March 12 Jeremiah 17:19-27, Romans 7:13-25, John 6:16-27 It was the early 1960s. The society was drenched with the sweat of social struggle during the first half of the twentieth century, a period often referred to as “the nadir of American race relations.” But now the fragrance of change and transformation was clearly in the air. There was the 1963 March on Washington, the 1964 Civil Rights Act, and the 1965 Voting Rights Act, among other crucial events. It was in this context that Duke University matriculated its first African American students, and it did so not only as a reflection of the currents of social change taking place at the time. Rather, it did so as part of its commitment to being a place of critical humanistic inquiry and as a place committed reflecting this in the diversity of its community. It is against this backdrop that each of our Lenten scriptural texts, but especially Jeremiah 17 and Romans 7, speak to us. We find in the first part of Jeremiah 17 a record of ancient Judah’s sin. In their many daily practices, the prophet contends that they were in effect committing idolatry. They did so by displacing God and elevating themselves to the place of the true God. They engaged in a kind of false supremacy, an elevation of themselves beyond God and acting as if they were God. Having been challenged to change or repent of this sin of a false selfsupremacy (“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved; for you are my praise,” v. 14), God then sends the prophet to remind the people and their political leaders of their deliverance from trusting themselves, that time of a false and idolatrous self-supremacy. This is the message of the second part of Jeremiah 17, our Old Testament Lenten text. Through the prophet, God challenges the people first to remember their sinful past and then not to reproduce it, that is, “to carry no burden,” no new exclusionary idolatries, into the community’s present. For to do so would once again jeopardize the life of the community.

In his Romans letter (7:13–25), Paul refers to this ongoing work of holding back an idolatrous self-supremacy, the temptation to exclude others and elevate one’s self. This is the “sin that dwells within me” and that drives a society structured in violence and death. Our deliverance is to be found in the continual work of examining how exclusion reappears in our midst and in following Jesus Christ who was killed for leading a life that embraced others, particularly those that society excluded. This 50th anniversary of the commemoration of the first black students to matriculate at Duke is precisely a moment, during the Lenten season, in which we might meditate on how the sin of exclusion that can in subtle and not-so subtle ways show up again in us and how we might to refuse to carry that burden into the present. —Dr. J. Kameron Carter Associate Professor in Theology and Black Church Studies Duke Divinity School

Wednesday, March 13 Jeremiah 18:1-11, Romans 8:1-11, John 6:27-40 “The beauty of reconciliation results from the horror of violence paired with humble repentance. Mending does not occur without a breach, which is a hard reality to face. But think about it, what needs reuniting if no separation occurs? In a world without bloodshed there is no need for a ceasefire. I believe every human should strive for a nonviolent world each and every day, but I also believe that we cannot achieve peace on our own. We need help in the form of a savior. In reconciliation, broken repentant parties come together and are reformed into something whole and new, exposing the intersection of devastation, contrition, and healing. Because of Israel’s repentance, God re-molded Israel into a vessel that was good and usable. Judah, on the other hand, was not remade into a new vessel because Judah lacked contrition. In being reconciled with God, God forms us into something altogether different through the power of the penitent heart. Reconciliation can be manifest on earth when parties assume a posture of humility, express repentance, and are willing to be transformed into something new. Such is the case with Bill Macumber, who was released from prison after serving a 38-year sentence for a crime he did not commit. An interviewer asked Bill if he was bitter, and he responded, “No, no. Bitterness is for fools. Bitterness, vengeance, all of that, there’s no saving grace in those things. What I’m doing is looking ahead down the road.” It is often through the pain of experience that the voice of reconciliation comes. Let’s tune our ears to hear this voice when it seeks to re-make us.

God of all reconciliation, Open our hearts and minds to a clearer understanding of what peace on earth really means. Instill in us compassion for all creation and the courage and grace to follow you. The heart is the vessel through which the Holy Spirit works in us, and we pray for more love to flow from it to fill the cracks created by sin and brokenness. Amen. —Ms. Cristina Comer Divinity ’10, Duke Chapel Missions Intern ’08-09

Thursday, March 14 Jeremiah 22:13-23, Romans 8:12-27, John 6:41-51 Jeremiah 22:13-19 tells of the woe and destruction that will befall Jehoiakim, king of Judah, and son of Josiah. While Josiah was righteous, did justice, was humble and judged the cause of the poor and needy, Jehoiakim was unrighteous, unjust, greedy, and paid no wages for services that were rendered or work that was done for him. Josiah lived a life that was pleasing to God, so provided a godly model for Jehoiakim. However, Jehoiakim’s eyes were not on God, but on the things of the world. The palace built with free labor was grander than Josiah’s and others before him. Although Jehoiakim was warned that God was not interested in grand palaces, greedy or covetous rulers, He did not change. His burial was prophesied as being like that of a donkey, that is, left as prey for animals and birds. What a non-traditional description of a king’s burial that is! In Jeremiah 22:20-23 God calls to Jerusalem to cry out about the calamity which she has brought on herself. God spoke to her in prosperity, but Jerusalem refused to listen. Her disobedience to Him has been willful. Now she has no allies, and will be in great pain when she falls into captivity. Do we often model Jerusalem behavior? Does God speak to us and we refuse to acknowledge His call? Does our need to “do our own thing” supersede the will of God? Do we have friends/allies who try to lovingly counsel us, with no success? During this Lenten season let us keep our eyes on Jesus’ example of obedience to his Father, an obedience which led to His death on the cross so that we might receive the gift of salvation, and become daughters and sons of our Heavenly Father. Let us follow the example of the Son instead of the example of the son (Jehoiakim). Let us not exalt ourselves above others. Let us individually and collectively care for those who need our care and assistance. Let us treat those who are in our employ fairly and pay them equitably. Let us share our resources--financial, intellectual, spiritual and human, to help make this world a better place.

Father, we thank you for your Son, Jesus, and the example He models for us. Let us wake up each day with renewed determination to be more like Him. Amen.

—Ms. Alma Mickens Jones Trinity ’69

Friday, March 15 Jeremiah 23:1-8, Romans 8:28-39, John 6:52-59 African Americans have always been a part of our beloved Duke. As laborers, the bricks they laid built Trinity College. A later generation gained admission, and, still later, was welcomed, on the same terms as their majority classmates. Some majority members of our community stood for equality while others stood in the way. And, bright minority students did not consider applying to Duke because Duke would not consider them. Anonymous souls aided Duke’s first tentative steps. Edythe King, the college counselor at Hillside High School, encouraged her students. She motivated three of her charge to be three of Duke’s five first accepted black undergraduates. Blondola Lucas was among a handful of African Americans enrolled in summer graduate studies months before undergraduate integration. Durham surgeon Dr. Charles Watts, and wife Constance, urged us to accept Dr. David C. Sabiston’s recruitment. The Wattses felt that the medical center’s tentative steps toward senior staff integration should be firmly embraced and encouraged, as a next-step in Duke’s greatness and a leap forward for Durham. Thus, Onye accepted Dr. Sabiston’s appointment as associate professor and became the first African American in the Department of Surgery, later adding a joint appointment in Physiology. The early years were punctuated by insinuations that minorities diluted Duke’s rigor. Pioneers were often on their own. Dr. Harold Silberman and others referred patients who helped build Onye’s surgical practice, based on outcomes, not skin color. Undergraduate teaching collaboration with Dr. Vance Tucker and work on the academic and athletic councils helped bridge the medical and main campus communities. Some medical colleagues stood tall when white patients shrank at being attended by the black surgeon. Perhaps a decade after our arrival, at a minority medical alumni meeting, black alumni from the early years were gloriously surprised to learn that minority and majority professors alike mentored and guided present-day minority students. With Dr. Brenda Armstrong’s appointment as Dean of medical school admissions, medical school classes have continually excelled in diversity and academic markers.

As today’s Jeremiah reading urges, mentors - generous and caring, listening carefully, tending to or serving constituencies - enable all to flourish at Duke medical center. Our university evolved from being a bit late to integrate to being a place where students and professors of all God’s creation strive together to make a just community of learning. —Dr. Anne Micheaux Akwari Assistant Consulting Professor of Community and Family Medicine —Dr. Onye E. Akwari Associate Professor of Cell Biology, Professor of Surgery Duke School of Medicine

Saturday, March 16 Jeremiah 23:9-15, Romans 9:1-18, John 6:60-71 “My heart is broken within me, All my bones tremble … Because of the Lord And because of His holy words… For the land mourns because of the curse… For from the prophets of Jerusalem Pollution has gone forth into all the land.” —excerpts from Jeremiah 23:9-15 Jeremiah tells us that before we can be healers, we must be willing to see the truth and to be broken by the brokenness, especially the brokenness within the household of God. Many of us with privilege find it hard to get from here to there. In the congregation I am part of, we are very engaged in Durham, giving away lots of money, involved in many benevolent activities. But when it comes to our city and its history, we don’t experience much mourning, trembling, and heart-breaking. In 2008, a strange new practice began to unsettle us, an annual Lenten Pilgrimage of Pain and Hope into Durham. Many of us had traveled into the pain of Haiti and Africa. But not many had journeyed into the pain of Durham. Pilgrimage is not a mission project. It is not tourism. Some protested. “So we’re going to simply listen to people’s stories? We’re not going to do anything for them?” Pilgrimage is a journey onto strange and uncomfortable ground, in the prayer that it becomes holy ground. Pilgrimage is grounded in the conviction that God is already at work in the land that mourns, and that God has something to teach us in slowing down, in crossing over, in being present. Over the course of three days we ate dinner with Ann Atwater in her home, and heard stories of Durham’s turbulent civil rights years, including uncomfortable truth about our own congregation. In East Durham, we met a mother who works amidst gun violence, and saw the

album of her teenage daughter full of obituaries of friends who were shot. On Roxboro Road we struggled to speak Spanish with Latino neighbors, and heard their immigrant stories. We spent the night in the homes of hospitable strangers (some heard gun shots in Durham for the first time). We worshipped at St. John’s Missionary Baptist, a five-minute walk from our church (Blacknall Presbyterian) across Broad Street. We saw that Broad Street is not innocent, it is a divide between two different worlds racially, economically, and ecclesialy that had deformed our understanding of who “our people” are. Over the 100-year history of our two churches, until very recently we had never read Scripture together, sung “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” or eaten at the same table. There are some things God can only teach us by relocation, by taking our bodies across divides. Walking with Jeremiah requires us to slow down and allow strange ground become holy ground. We may not desire such a vision of hope, but it is surely the most deep and beautiful vision, and the one we most need.

—Mr. Chris Rice Director of the Duke Divinity School Center for Reconciliation

Sunday, March 17 Jeremiah 23:16-32, 1 Corinthians 9:19-27, Mark 8:31-9:1 The more things change, the more they stay the same. Watching what U.S. news commentators promote today may make you think someone has hacked into the CNN tele-prompters and uploaded texts from the prophets of ancient Israel around the time of the Babylonian exile. Then, as now, the words of the prophet are never comfortable to receive. Jeremiah has been insistent to announce judgment on Judah and Jerusalem. These words of the prophet are not given a specific historical time, possibly because then, as now, the failure of those called to bear witness to the holiness of God occurs repeatedly. . Jeremiah’s clarion call invites his hearers to recognize false prophesy, while seeking the will of God. The denunciations that once blamed the misfortunes of the people on the political powerbrokers, now indict those who claim to speak in the name of God. Jeremiah warned the people not to listen to the deceiving prophets whose visions come not from the Lord’s mouth, but from their own hearts. Linked too closely with the political policies of the day, the false prophets incited hostility toward the Lord’s requirement of hospitality, humility, and hope. They claimed peace even though the storms revealed God’s anger. These difficult-to-hear portions of Scripture are taken from the record of a displaced people. They were a people carried away into captivity like the Africans who, centuries later, would be grabbed away from the soil that gave birth to the world’s civilizations. They were a people living on foreign soil with a memory of the way things used to be. But they too had

forgotten they were a people tasked to demonstrate the presence, power, and promise of God. Such a people must take care not to lose their lives as they gained the world. The Corinthians passage suggests Paul came to this knowledge after encountering the risen Christ. In order to speak faithfully God’s word to others, he would deny himself. Such faithfulness demonstrates a willingness to control ones desires in order that others might know the justice of God. Such self-control must extend to claims of power, status, wealth, race, gender, family and national prowess. Only then, will those who come to exercise leadership in the world, never let their feet stray from the path where they met God. —The Rev. Dr. Joy Moore Former Director of the Office of Black Church Studies Duke Divinity School

Monday, March 18 Jeremiah 24:1-10, Romans 9:19-33, John 9:1-17 Boundaries can be very comforting. A guardrail keeps us from falling off the side of a staircase. A median separates us from oncoming traffic. A wall on the 97th floor allows us to press our faces against the window to see the view without a fear of falling. Boundaries can also be very limiting and even oppressing. Abolition, the Women’s Rights, and Civil Rights Movements all addressed and fought the limiting and oppressing factors of boundaries. In today’s Scripture passages, we see God’s action and presence in the world transcending boundaries. In Jeremiah, God chooses to call the exiles the good fruit. In Romans, Paul declares that through Christ, God calls both Jew and Gentile “my people.” It is confusing and troubling for the scribes in John to understand why Jesus would choose to break the law to heal the blind man on the Sabbath. Lent is a time of the year that we choose to connect death with new life. In Lent, we acknowledge the ugliness, wilderness, and difficulty of our own lives through journeying to the cross with Christ. We cross the boundary from presenting our lives of how they ought to be into the territory of confessing to God how hard and messy life really is. We boldly proclaim these Lenten truths to a God who is a boundary-crosser. The One who shows the face of life and beauty to the hard and messy. The church gathers together in Lent remembering the story that through the cross and through the mud and saliva there is new life and a clearer vision. What part of your life do you need to give to God this Lent in hopes it will find the goodness of Easter? However troubling it is, God’s boundless love can hold it. —The Rev. Brad Troxell Divinity ’11 Interim Associate Pastor, Congregation at Duke Chapel

Tuesday, March 19 Jeremiah 25:8-17, Romans 10:1-13, John 9:18-41 Blue, Black, and Blind Often, as I have walked across my campus hurrying to work now and to class only a few years ago, I have been reminded not only of my racial differences, but also of my familial differences as a child growing up informally in foster care. In fact, my foster grandfather and I share the same middle name, Hasker. When Jalen Rose once said that “certain schools [Duke] recruit a typical kind of player…they recruit black players from polished families, accomplished families,” I have often pondered a similar question that mirror’s his sentiment. Is it possible that Duke only recruits a certain kind of black student altogether? Is this a place only for “shiny” black people, from two-parent homes...one’s that don’t look like my piece-meal family? Is this a space for only the “right” kind of gifted and talented? If so, how did I get here? Often, it’s the little things that make me weary in this space, like when someone assumes I can just call my parents for money when I’m in a bind, or when classmates ask if my parents will be coming to graduation, or when co-workers assume they know what I will be doing for Mother’s day. It is in those times I am reminded that I am anomaly, a child who once studied by candle light in a storage shed…and just maybe, I don’t belong at this very elite school. Amidst all of the blazers, khakis, and starched shirts, I have wondered if Jalen Rose knew that I was here? And, maybe he is right…I’m not supposed to be here. It is the triple burden of being black, being from a different class, and being from a different kind of family that is challenging in an environment of bountiful “effortless perfection.” In John 9:18-41, Jesus finds himself reminding a once blind man that often the people around us are spiritually blind, and thus they can’t often accept something that they can’t reasonably comprehend. It is a conundrum for them to know a man who can now see even though he was born blind. I suspect that this conundrum happens when they meet a person who has had many surrogate parents, and who is also struggling to make sense of how he got here. Dear God, may you grant peace to the lonely child meandering around our campus. Help us to find wisdom and understanding when we sit with those who must daily face factors of race, class, and family. Mighty Redeemer, give us the courage to believe that the impossible is possible. Amen.

—The Rev. Sean Palmer Divinity ’11 Assistant Director The Mary Lou Williams Center for Black Culture

Wednesday, March 20 Jeremiah 25:30-38, Romans 10:14-21, John 10:1-18 The picture of the gentle Good Shepherd, staff in hand, surrounded by docile sheep, graces the stained glass windows of many churches. This is a comforting way to think of Jesus—in personal terms of love and affection—especially during the season of Lent, for Lent rightfully encourages self-examination and repentance. Many of the Lenten hymns feature the personal pronoun “I,” as each of us acknowledges his or her part in the suffering of the Lord. In both Jeremiah and the Gospel of John, however, the comfortable pasture has been invaded by danger. It is no longer a safe place. Jeremiah warns, “Wail, you shepherds, cry aloud” (Jer 25:34). In the Gospel of John, the thief invades the sheepfold and the hired man runs away (John 10:10). The one who remains must die. The intense, personal feelings associated with Lent are challenged by a different picture, that of God’s role in the public affairs of nations and institutions. God really is, as Handel taught us to sing in Messiah, “King of kings” and “Lord of lords,” which means that God rules in ways a single heart cannot discern or a single feeling capture. God oversees the movements of entire peoples; God is capable of using forces we don’t understand to accomplish the most unexpected blessings. Individuals may have a change of heart, but is it possible for a secular institution to repent of its sins? God says, Yes, for “I was found by those who were not looking for me. I revealed myself to those who never asked about me” (Rom 10:20). These are hopeful words for a university, and yet cautionary words to any person or group claiming to be God’s favored ones. Nothing is permanent or set in stone. None of us occupies a fixed position. Even death cannot claim the final word. The judgment of God is a powerful movement in a symphony that ends in a single voice— the voice of the Shepherd, the voice of the preacher, the voice of the prophet—each in a different register sounding the invitation to repent and to honor the sacrifice. Almighty God, ruler of all, open our eyes to your judgment upon all injustice and unrighteousness. Open our ears to the voice the Shepherd and all who speak in his name, to the end that with open eyes, ears, and hearts, we may turn to you and be saved; through Christ our Lord. Amen. —The Rev. Dr. Richard Lischer James T. and Alice Mead Cleland Professor of Preaching Duke Divinity School

Thursday, March 21 Jeremiah 26:1-16, Romans 11:1-12, John 10:19-42 “The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe.” O Lord, as the ecclesial authorities in their self-admiration were unable to see Jesus even as He stood before them, I have embraced blindness. You are the God who can open the eyes of those who would not see as well even as Jesus opened the eyes of those who could not see. Let my eyes be open to Your work among God’s people. O Lord, Jesus told the officials that the works of His hands attested to the truth of His words. Unable to refute the Lord’s labors of mending the broken world, they sought to repudiate His word that the world needed mending. They placed rigid ideologies above human needs and empty codes above Divine love. Like them, I have discredited God’s work and disputed God’s word, casting myself as God and accusing others of the arrogance that is my own. Let me rise above hypocrisy and legalism and instead be God’s hands reaching into the world in love. O Lord, I have taken up stones against those I call heretics, as though I were the author and authority of your Creation and the keeper of your law. I have forgotten that Creation breathes in me and in all God’s people. I have denied the Divine spark in myself and in others. Unable to refute the labors of love, I have taken up stones against the laborers of love, entrenched in my citadel of fear, envy, and yearning for power and security. Let me see that I am not God, but wholly a child of God, part of the Divine and the Divine part of me, part of God’s work and subject to God’s word. As I prepare myself for the light of Easter morning, O Lord, let me cease my disputation and take up the work of mending. Let me lay down my stones, Lord, and put them down to mark that place by the riverside where I chose to study war no more. Let my stones testify where I turned to loose the bonds of injustice; where I moved to be a repairer of the breach and to repair the ruined cities; where I opened my mouth to proclaim liberty to the captives and the year of the Lord’s favor; where I chose to do justice and love mercy and walk humbly with Thee, O Lord. Help me to embrace both that which I have seen and that which I have not seen. Let me lay down my shield as well as my sword, and prepare for the Resurrection of the Light. —Timothy B. Tyson Visiting Professor of American Christianity and Southern Culture Duke Divinity School Senior Research Scholar Duke Center for Documentary Studies

Friday, March 22 Jeremiah 29:1, 4-13; Romans 11:13-24, John 11:1-27 Dear Heavenly Father, During this time of reflection, we come to you celebrating a tremendous milestone in Duke University’s history, the 50th anniversary of the matriculation of Duke’s first five black students. I thank you for their determination to press on and continue to move forward even in the face of discrimination, prejudice, and adversity. I thank you for their strength to persevere and their courage to overcome hardships. As we acknowledge the struggle of those who have come before us and who have paved a way for greater equality, let us cherish the beauty of your promise that if we move forward in you God, we shall prosper and not fail. We thank you Lord for being the light onto our path, as we are often times afraid of stumbling. Thank you for those who did not let fear bind them, who did not let others impede their journey, but who stepped out in faith to create so many opportunities for those who would follow them. Just as many of us would not be here at this great institution if it were not for the persistence and dedication of those who have come before us, we wouldn’t know where we would be right now if it weren’t for your love and kindness that gives us hope and strength. Your message of hope is one that reminds us to find joy in the times of struggle and to trust that you will lead us out of darkness. Help us to never lose sight of your promises and to know that when we seek you, we will find the comfort and peace that only you can bring. Lord, free us of our unbelief and arrogance and teach us to stand strong in the truth that you are the root that supports us, our firm foundation. Continue to strengthen us in the promise that you are the resurrection and the life and that in you alone our faith should reside. I pray that you would guide us as we move forward in you and follow the great plans that you have for our lives, plans to prosper us and not to harm us, plans to give us hope and a future. And as we continue on this journey of progress, I pray that we would do so in a way that would glorify your name. Amen.

—Ms. Priscille Schettini Trinity ’13, PathWays Chapel Scholar President of United in Praise Gospel Choir

Saturday, March 23 Jeremiah 31:27-34, Romans 11:25-36, John 11:28-44 Bethany is a vale of tears. There Mary, sister to sleeping Lazarus, shudders in convulsions of grief so fitful the body cannot bear it. Finally, at the weary feet of a too-late Jesus, she, exhausted by grief, falls tearfully to the ground. Except for a remainder of faith that confesses what sounds so much like complaint, she might have wished her own death: “Lord,

if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Like that of so many others to follow, then and now, hers is a confidence diminished by faint regret. Lord, if you had been here. Today the same road that was wetted with Mary’s regret winds through Newtown, MA and Chicago, IL. Mourners like Mary caught between bleeding woe and groaning hope people the path. Lord, if you had been here. Twenty six- and seven-year-olds in Newtown. Six adult educators. Lord, if you had been here. More than 500 lost in Chicago last year. Fortytwo last month. Fourteen last weekend Lord, if you had been here. In truth, woe seems not an unjustified response to such plagues of violence and dying in town and city. Nor does despair or cynicism. But the Lenten season reminds us of a faith that refuses death and woe. Lent recalls a faith—the very faith of the Son of God and of man—that weeps tears strong as sweat or blood or love. “See how much he loved him!” said onlookers as Jesus wept, his groaning the keynote of a resurrection song for the whole creation as Lazarus, still in his grave-clothes, escapes the tomb a fugitive from death. During Lent, we deal death a blow as love refuses death’s terms and life goes on sometimes bruised but on the strength of love unbeaten. O God of undying love, where death and despair have planted their flag and laid claim to what rightly belongs to life, we pray your Spirit to make wrong right, to transform lament into laughter, and anguish into righteous energy. Inspire our tears to water ground hardened by hate, injustice, violence, and cold indifference. Grant that our groaning yield a deep yearning for the rule and reign of mercy, charity, justice and peace in this world and in the world to come. Amen.

—The Rev. Dr. Maurice Wallace Associate Professor of English and African and African American Studies

Sunday, March 24 Zechariah 9:9-12, 1 Timothy 6:12-16, Matthew 21:12-17 “I don’t care for religion; but I am very spiritual,” smirked the callow sociologist who had trapped me at the President’s reception for new faculty. Yawn. If he thinks this, “spiritual but not religious” drivel is his brilliant insight, I’m sure he would also think that he agrees with Matthew 21:12-17 – Jesus cleaning house at the Temple. As Jesus wreaks havoc, turning over expensive ecclesiastical furnishings, driving out clergy, welcoming the physically disadvantaged (note the paucity of handicapped parking spaces at Duke Chapel), egged on by the shouts of children (usually kept quiet during our high liturgy), Jesus makes war on our religion.

Go get ‘em Jesus. These holier-than-thou religious geeks prostitute the sweet, simple, do-gooder faith of Jesus with their long liturgies, pledge campaigns, and judgmental clergy. Jesus is trying to be Christopher Hitchens. Be careful. I remember the late Betty Achtemier leaning over the Chapel pulpit and pronouncing, “If you read a biblical passage” (Matthew’s account of the purification of the Temple?) “and you say to yourself, ‘that’s what I already believe’, read it again. You probably got it wrong.” Jesus being “spiritual but not religious”? Hardly. He quotes ancient scripture against people of scripture, overturns divinely appointed mechanisms whereby we are saved, calls religious professionals like me “thieves,” and tells the kids to keep shouting. Never was Jesus more a child of Israel. Get it? Matthew depicts Jesus as the new center of national life. The majestic Temple, sometimes inspiring, sometimes abused, has become a man. A Jew from Nazareth who lived briefly will soon die violently as the “Temple” – our way to God, God’s way to us – comes too close for comfort. Our religion is not being displaced by mushy, goofy spirituality; our mechanisms for salvation – even at a church so grand as Duke Chapel —are being relativized, prophetically critiqued, embodied in a Jew. Frankly, I give Jesus less than a week before we kill him.

—The Rev. Dr. William Willimon Dean of Duke Chapel 1984-2004 Professor of the Practice of Christian Ministry Duke Divinity School

Monday, March 25 Jeremiah 12:1-16, Philippians 3:1-14, John 12:9-19 Jeremiah proclaims, “You are always righteous, Lord, when I bring a case before you.” Shortly after, Jeremiah asks, “Why does the way of the wicked prosper?” When I think about this proclamation and the following question it brings up many thoughts. Of most salience in my heart is pondering how my fellow White Americans and I can play a role in moving toward more racial harmony in this country and abroad. As we celebrate a time of penitence and reflection (Lent) while also commemorating the 50th anniversary of black student admission to Duke, I feel called to make the connection between the two for myself. However, I also pray to that we not only reflect on the racial inequities of the past but also ask God to open the eyes of our heart to the racial inequities of today and our contribution to them.

I pray that as we ask the question that Jeremiah asked to the Lord, we search within ourselves to ask, “How does the way of the wicked prosper within me?” We often are conscious of the wickedness that happens “out there.” We often fail to humble ourselves to acknowledge, deconstruct, and repent for the wickedness that happens “in here.” Our wickedness can manifest within us in the form of internalized racial superiority. I am an Episcopalian. We recite the Confession of Sin as part of our service. We start the confession by stating, “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed.” Whether or not you are Episcopalian, most of us Christians can understand the concept of acknowledging our sin in thought, word, and deed. When it comes to race relations, us White Americans have made progress in some ways when it comes to the word and deed part. We have learned how to present ourselves in a way that is relatively inclusive to the past. However, word and deed is only part of the battle. How do we react internally when we are walking down the street at night and see a young black man? How do we react internally when we see a brother /sister of Middle Eastern descent get on the airplane with us? Does our wickedness within blur our vision of who is a threat, qualified, or fit for leadership? Let us present our transgressions to the Lord and learn to love our neighbors as ourselves.

—Mr. Sean Novak Program Coordinator Duke Center for Multicultural Affairs

Tuesday, March 26 Jeremiah 15:10-21, Philippians 3:15-21, John 12:20-26 “Your wealth and your treasures I will give as plunder, without charge, because of all your sins throughout your country. I will enslave you to your enemies in a land you do not know, for my anger will kindle a fire that will burn against you.” — Jeremiah 15:13-14 “Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be.” — John 12:26 In his 2012 Jefferson Lecture, Wendell Berry recalls the day he first stood outside of Duke Chapel, gazing upon the bronze statue of James B. Duke. There in the shadow of the Chapel’s formidable bell tower, he recalled how the monopoly that Duke built ruined his grandfather’s farm in Kentucky. Reflecting on the statue’s pair of inscriptions— “Industrialist” on one side, “Philanthropist” on the other—Berry wrote, “The connection was my grandparents and thousands of others more or less like them. If you can appropriate for little or nothing the work and hope of enough such farmers, then you may dispense the grand charity of ‘philanthropy.’”

Berry’s observation brings to mind a Saturday morning several years ago in Durham’s Walltown neighborhood, when I sat with a neighbor reading the Herald-Sun on his front porch. Since Mr. Duke made his most significant local bequest in 1924, Walltown has served as a servant’s quarters to Duke University. My neighbor, an African-American, grew up among people who called Duke “the plantation.” All of this was in the background that morning when my neighbor opened the Metro section to see a story about Duke undergrads raking leaves for elderly folks in Walltown. “All I want to know,” he said to me, “is how come every time any of them come over here, they bring a camera.” His anger, I suspect, was rooted in the same contradiction that Mr. Berry points out—the injustice that the prophet Jeremiah cries against. But the divine anger that Jeremiah expresses, not unlike my neighbor’s and Mr. Berry’s, is rooted in love. It is, no doubt, a love for the small farmer of old and the housekeeping workers of today. But it is also a love for the people who enjoy the treasures of injustice. For the fire of God’s wrath will consume those who profit from injustice. It is love that compels the prophet to warn us before our towers go up in flame. The 50th anniversary of Duke’s admittance of African-Americans is a great milestone to celebrate. But it also a terrible inheritance to lament— that so much of our “wealth and treasure” was built on a history of racial injustice. This is not an easy word for us to hear. But, as Martin Luther said, the word that kills is the word that gives life. The gospel text for today holds forth the hope of a different future: “whoever serves me must follow me.” Our hope is in learning a better way, in imitating Christ’s way of selfemptying love.

—The Rev. Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove Divinity ’06 Director, School for Conversion, Durham

Wednesday, March 27 Jeremiah 17:5-10, 14-17, Philippians 4:1-13, John 12:27-36 As we, the Duke Community continue into this time of penance and reflection, Let us reflect on how far we have come. We reflect on the courage of the first Black students to matriculate at Duke University and we remember their courage, faith, and passion. We remember that ours was not always a welcoming community.

And that the bravery of the first students to integrate Duke has contributed to the place that we love today. The Lord teaches us that He will make us like a “tree planted in water.” Let us keep faith that the Lord will guide us to make the right decisions as we in the time of reflection realize that our Community is not yet perfect, I pray that we keep our faith in God’s teachings strong so that we may become the tree in water that does not fear the heat. We know that as we continue to improve our community and fight for social justice in the world, we will face that heat. Thus, as we strive to bring the world forward, Let us be full of the faith and trust in the Lord that gave the Mary Mitchell Harris, Gene Wendell, Wilhelmina Rubin-Cooke, Cassandra Rush, and Nathaniel White Jr. the courage to pave the way for many others. Lord, let our faith be strong as we do continue to do your work.

—Ms. Alexandra Swain Trinity ’13

Maundy Thursday, March 28 Jeremiah 20:7-11, 1 Corinthians 10:14-17, 11:27-32; John 17:1-26 Reading John 17, I’m reminded of an early encounter in Durham. Jessie Petcoff, Registrar at the Duke University Museum of Art, and her husband, James, hosted a dinner party that my husband and I attended, along with other Duke faculty. Seated on my right was Kenny Jackson Williams from the English Department, and on my left sat Frank L. Borchardt of the German Department. During dinner, I learned about Seagrove, North Carolina: a community with the longest continual history of pottery making in the United States. Borchardt and Williams invited me to join them on a trip to Seagrove the following day. As we drove down the Interstate, Borchardt and Williams smoked Kool cigarettes, laughed, and shared stories. Occasionally Williams would say “Sealed in blood,” and Borchardt and I would respond in unison “Sealed in blood!” Then she would share an outrageous story which revealed the challenges of being Black at Duke in the 1970s and 1980s. Shortly after Professor Williams’ death in 2003, Berin Szoka published a thoughtful memorial in which he described her: “She seemed as out of place in the twenty-first century as she did in the Duke English Department. Her boldly retro (and devilishly un-PC) fur coats, the maroon behemoth she drove (a Cadillac?), her fondness for after-dinner

sherry . . . it all belonged to the bygone age of the 1950s. Her major field of study was the literature of the American Midwest, that most unscintillating of regions. What would Foucault say?” During this Lenten season I am praying for deceased members of the Durham community who embraced me and enhanced my life, including Mary Duke Biddle Trent Semans, Hildegard Ryals, David Page, Anne Schroder, Vernon Pratt, Margaret Fitzsimmons, Josephine and William Clement, Aurelia and John Hope Franklin, Herbert O. Edwards, Reynolds Price, C. Eric Lincoln, Lucille Clifton, Marilyn Yarborough, Ed Hill and, of course, Kenny Jackson Williams and Frank Borchardt. “Sanctify them through thy truth: thy word is truth. As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, that they also might be sanctified through the truth” (John 17:17-19). Lord, sometimes you call us into places where we are unsure of our purpose. We have to leave behind the familiar, the safe, and the comfortable in order to thrive and grow, and find our blessings. Help us, Lord, to answer your call. Thank You and Amen!

—Ms. C. T. Woods Powell Education and Training Coordinator Duke Professional Development Institute

Good Friday, March 29 Genesis 22:1-14, 1 Peter 1:10-20; John 13:36-38 Christians know there is no sacrifice known to the world greater than the offering of the Eternal Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. It is a full, sufficient, and willing offering, but it was not without suffering. There was the suffering of the Son, and there was the suffering of the Father. The Spirit is the witness to the mutual suffering that is for the benefit of all creation, and especially those who believe on the Son. The Apostle Peter affords great insight for knowing the meaning of grace-filled suffering. It redounds not only to the one who is given up and participates in self-giving. It also redounds to many others. The epistlewriter opens meaning from the wisdom of the prophetic witness, and gives insight for other directions in which such suffering can go as well. A prefiguration can be seen in the suffering of Abraham and Isaac, where Abraham carries his son to Mt. Moriah as an offering to God. As Abraham readied himself to take the knife and slay his son, the angel of the Lord spoke to show the ram in the bush. The place of sacrifice was named The-Lord-will-provide [Jehovah Jireh], and for the obedience Abraham, Isaac, and their descendants were blessed. A similar prophetic eye affords insight into numerous instances of mutual sacrifice and great benefit. An instance can be seen in how scores of young African Americans and their parents participated in mutual

suffering during the integration of Duke University in the sixties and seventies. Like Isaac we came innocently to a place that in many ways was like Mt. Moriah. Our parents knew far better than we did the sacrifice that was being made by bringing us. In turn, we learned details of the sacrifice. We also learned to rely on provisions made by God and others whose hearts were filled with kindness. During this year of commemoration, let us not forget sacrifices. Let us seize also upon occasions for repentance--as turning from practices that slay, wound, and destroy innocent ones. Rightly, we give thanks for provisions God makes in the midst of suffering. Rightly, we acknowledge the efficacy of redemptive suffering. But every act of cruelty is wrong. When such acts or their consequences are known in retrospect, the right response is repentance. Only then is room made for redemption. God, forgive us for our role in the suffering of your world. Grant us during this season of Lent and commemoration the grace to receive the provisions you have made for restoration during these days and days to come. Amen

—The Rev. Dr. William Turner Trinity ’71; Divinity ’74, Graduate School ’81 Professor of the Practice of Homiletics Duke Divinity School

Holy Saturday, March 30 Job 19:21-27a, Hebrews 4:1-16; Romans 8:1-11 On Holy Saturday, the church dwells deep in the death of Christ. The silence of Saturday swells the abandonment of death witnessed on Calvary. It seems like an empty day, a blank screen, when all is lost. By 1963 when the first African-American students matriculated at Duke, the price paid in human lives during the struggle for civil rights was already high. Fourteen-year-old Emmett Till’s death had made headlines. Medgar Evers had been shot in his own driveway. The nation had witnessed brutal scenes as Freedom Riders challenged segregation throughout the South. Holy Saturday is a day for remembering the violence inflicted in communities throughout America. It is a day to remember those who died in the struggle, never seeing their hopes fulfilled. Yet on this day marked by the loss of life, the church prays a Psalm echoed through the generations, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts” (Hebrews 4:7, Psalm 95:7-8). How easy it would be to harden our hearts the day after a brutal death. Of all days, we need this prayer on Holy Saturday. What does it mean to “harden not our hearts” when all seems lost? Imagine what it took for Duke’s First Five to step forward knowing they

were offering their lives as a sign of hope in the midst of a nation swept by violence. For all the strength, determination, and fortitude they displayed, there was one thing required above all - their unhardened hearts. Today’s emptiness is an invitation to examine where our hearts might be hardened. Today’s silence is an invitation to believe that today God beckons us toward something for which we too can offer our lives in hope. The Psalmist believes, as do we, that in today’s silence, we may well hear God’s voice. We may well hear God’s voice calling us to do something which requires an unhardened heart. Today, this very day, if you hear God’s voice, do not harden your heart.

—The Rev. Abby Kocher Trinity ’00; Divinity ’06 Duke Chapel Community Minister 2006-09

Easter Sunday, March 31 Exodus 12:1-14, Luke 24:13-33 The stone had been rolled away. No body was there in the tomb. The breaking newsflash was “He is not here, but has risen.” This was the talk of the town for at least two of the disciples. But when the missing body of Jesus appears in their midst, they don’t recognize him. They think he is an uninformed stranger (v.18). They are sad because they “had hoped that [Jesus of Nazareth] was the one to redeem Israel” (v.21). Their disappointments blind them to enfleshed resurrection reality right before their eyes. But what does Jesus do? He shares the word and interprets “to them the things about himself in all the scriptures”(v.27). They keep walking while nothing changes up to this point until they have table fellowship. “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him” (vv.30-31). Our recognition of the human identity of someone happens when we sit with each other to commune at tables. We can talk about many social issues but until we sit down at a welcome table we will not see each other for who we really are. The disciples thought Jesus was a stranger but he is the host of this table. His resurrected presence brought people together to integrate their lives with one another. He did not promote separate restaurants, separate schools, separate restrooms and water fountains. He did not say that this meal or his resurrection was “for these people only.” His resurrection meal was for everyone present at the same time in the same place at the same table, not a separate but equal mentality. It was an equal opportunity to grow, be blessed, and to see him. It was not a sit-in of protest but a eucharistic ‘sit-with.’ Sitting with each other at a table is important as a sign of welcome, but the resurrected Jesus also helps us share in each other’s brokenness as

well. Eyes are opened when brokenness is shared. Jesus gives everyone at the table the opportunity to eat the same broken bread. The table reveals a web of mutuality between humanity. The broken bread calls us to be in solidarity with those who suffer and recognize that we are all interrelated. Thus, the 50th commemoration of the first black students at Duke is a remembrance and celebration for all to participate in, regardless of race or ethnicity. The terror and triumph of black peoples should be a concern of all people because black history is human history. When we share in the burden and blessing of others then we begin to recognize our common humanity. All of us share in brokenness because all of us are broken in one way or another. In August 2012, when Maya Angelou gave her annual speech to incoming first year Duke students in Duke Chapel, she spoke of those on her journey who were “rainbows in the clouds” for her. She pointed to the support of others in her life during good and bad times. They shared in her struggles and she praised those ‘rainbows’ for it. I thank the ‘rainbows’ on my journey and the civil rights trailblazers, even at Duke, who paved the path in such a way that gave me the humble privilege of being the first black dean of the Chapel. In light of this, I am called to share in the past and present brokenness of others as I stand in a gothic pulpit where some past university leaders pronounced no black would ever preach. As I remember the past, I imagine the brokenness of the past as a way to better recognize the realities of the present while moving forward in the future. But I am reminded this Easter that in the sharing of the struggle and pain of the past and present, there is divine revelation in our midst. As we share at tables, we see each other for who we are and realize that knowledge of the risen Jesus comes “in the breaking of the bread”(v.35). Jesus is not recognized and revealed until after the meal and particularly in the broken bread. Of course, this passage consists of the word or interpretation of scriptures and a meal at the table (i.e. communion); however, there is also a clear sense that Jesus appears in the midst of brokenness signified by the breaking of bread. If bread was not broken, one might argue whether Jesus would be recognized because one can find the risen Christ among the crucified peoples of the world in broken places and spaces of society. Jesus’ resurrection happens on the earth thus resurrection impacts earthly realities and grounds spirituality in materiality like the stuff of broken bread. His resurrection does not remove him from us but draws him closer to us in our brokenness. It is important to recognize that the wounds of Jesus’ crucifixion are not erased by the resurrection, thus brokenness is still important for the body of Christ. The risen Jesus is a wounded healer who through his own brokenness makes us whole. In the broken realities of the past and present Duke, we

can find the presence of Christ. When our eyes are opened, we see the risen crucified one who can make us wholly whole because Jesus is known in brokenness. As we complete this literary “liturgy of remembrance” in connection with Duke’s 50th commemoration of its first black students, we remember with a sense of realism as Desmond Tutu has written, “the litany of brokenness is without end” while at the same time trusting, believing, and testifying with Easter hope that the risen Jesus, who is the beginning and the end, walks with us on dusty roads to heal us so that we may be made whole. “The Lord has risen indeed”(v.34). May we remember this every time we find ourselves at a table breaking bread. God of resurrection, as we journey in life, may we have our eyes opened to the risen Christ in the midst of our brokenness that our hearts may burn for wholeness in him. Amen.

—The Rev. Dr. Luke Powery Dean of Duke Chapel

Holy Week at Duke Chapel Sunday, March 24 11:00 am

Palm/Passion Sunday University Service of Worship The Rev. Dr. Luke Powery

11:00 am

Catholic Palm Sunday Mass Goodson Chapel



Catholic Palm Sunday Mass

9:00 pm

Catholic Liturgy of Holy Thursday

Friday, March 29 11:30 am

Good Friday Procession of the Stations of the Cross beginning on the Chapel steps

12:00 noon

Service of Good Friday The Rev. Dr. Richard Lischer (Professor of Preaching, Duke Divinity School)



1:00-3:00 pm

Meditative organ music

Tuesday, March 26 12:00 noon Holy Week Noon Service Ms. Kennetra Irby



5:00 pm

Catholic Liturgy of Good Friday

5:15 pm

Service of Prayer and Holy Communion Memorial Chapel

Saturday, March 30 Holy Saturday 8:00pm Catholic Easter Vigil Mass

5:45 pm

Catholic Mass FA House

9:00 pm

Monday, March 25 12:00 noon Holy Week Noon Service The Rev. Meghan Feldmeyer 12:00 noon

Catholic Mass Chapel Crypt

Wednesday, March 27 12:00 noon Holy Week Noon Service The Rev. Brad Troxell 5:15 pm

Catholic Mass Goodson Chapel

Thursday, March 28 Maundy Thursday 12:00 noon Holy Week Noon Service Mr. Jeff Nelson (Chapel Worship Intern) 6:00 pm

Service of Footwashing Memorial Chapel

7:30 pm

Maundy Thursday Service* The Rev. Dr. Laceye Warner (Executive Vice Dean; Duke Divinity School) Stripping of the Altar Service of the Lord’s Supper

7:30 pm

Service of Tenebrae (Darkness)* The Rev. Dr. Luke Powery

Sunday, March 31 6:30 am

Easter Sunday Easter Sunrise Service The Rev. Bruce Puckett Duke Gardens South Lawn

9:00 am

Service of Worship with Holy Communion The Rev. Dr. Luke Powery

11:00 am

Service of Worship The Rev. Dr. Luke Powery

11:00 am

Catholic Easter Mass Duke Gardens South Lawn



Catholic Easter Mass

9:00 pm

* Because silence will be observed in these services, a limited capacity nursery will be available for children under 6. Mon-Thurs noon services in Memorial Chapel All events in Duke Chapel unless otherwise noted. For more information www.chapel.duke.edu